The hotel phone rang, and Rune rolled over to answer it. Full night had fallen, and he switched on the bedside lamp as he did, flooding the room in soft light. Carling could clearly hear the feminine voice on the other end. “Rune, I just arrived at the hotel and I’ve checked into the room you booked for me.”
“Excellent, Seremela,” he said. “Please come up to the suite as soon as you are able.” He raised his eyebrows at Carling, who nodded in agreement.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
As he twisted at the waist to hang up the phone, Carling ran her fingers along the line of his bare torso, from shoulder to hip. He turned back to her, his features creased in a smile. “Claiming each other is one thing,” she said. “Figuring out how to do ‘together’ is an entirely different thing.”
“We’ve come out of the gate strong,” Rune said. He came over her, bracing himself on one elbow by her head as he leaned down to kiss her. “We’ve learned to trust each other, like each other and enjoy each other’s company. We just have to keep relying on each other as we fight to find a cure for you. Learning about the rest, making life decisions about what comes next, all that can wait.”
Carling stared up at him, aching as she thought of everything he was giving up for her. She said slowly, “If we really find a cure that works, then I may become human again. If that happens, I’ll die so soon, in just another fifty years or so.” After the enormous amount of time she had lived through, fifty years seemed like an eye blink.
“Those fifty years would be worth everything to me,” he whispered back. His smiling eyes never wavered. They were clear and steady, right down to the bottom of his soul.
He really meant it, she saw. He really was mating with her, committing to her. He didn’t hold back, or qualify or try to dissemble. He would live as she lived, and die as she died. Panic struck her all over again, deeper and harder than before, not for her sake but for his.
She had qualified things and dissembled. Fight to live, he had said to her, and even as she did so, she still prepared to die, still settled her affairs and said her good-byes, still braced herself for the end.
Holy gods, not anymore. She had to fight to live with everything she had inside, because this was no longer just about her. It was about them both. She gripped his wrist hard. “We don’t have any time to lose.”
“Then we best get cracking,” he said.
He rolled off the bed and to his feet in one smooth, lithe motion. She sat more slowly, watching as he picked up the clothes from the floor. His hair was tousled more than ever, his nude muscled body bearing bite and scratch marks that were fading even as she watched. The embers of passion flared in her body as she stared at his neck. As he leaned over to lay her jeans, shirt and lingerie on the bed beside her, she reached up to finger the bite mark.
She felt his breath leave him. He gave her a glittering look under lowered eyelids. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his penis stiffen. He said roughly, “Behave.”
“Do you really want me to?” she asked gently.
His expression turned scorching. “Seremela’s going to be here in just over five minutes.”
She tilted her face up to his as she took hold of his erection. She rubbed her thumb over the broad head of his cock. He bared his teeth. He looked savage and magnificent, barely held in check and completely inhuman. Gods, how she loved this man. She whispered, “We’ll just have to remember where we left off then.”
“Bloody hell, woman,” he gritted. He grabbed hold of her wrist but didn’t pull her hand away. A muscle in his bicep started jumping, he was holding himself so tightly.
She bent sideways to kiss the muscle in his arm. She felt like she was immersed in him, his aroused scent, his hot presence, and yet starving for him at the same time. She was so starving. She raked her teeth gently along the skin of the bunched muscle, and he made a muffled sound and went down hard on one knee on the floor beside the bed.
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. He clutched her to him, kissing her back with every bit as much hunger as she had. “Mine,” she whispered against his lips.
“Mine,” he whispered back. He ran his lips compulsively down her neck to her breastbone, bending her back. His mind slid on a patch of black ice as he flashed on her incomparable, gorgeous body, those curves, the jut of her ripe nipples, those strong shapely legs as she had wound them around his hips—
A knock sounded at the suite door, and he yanked away from the siren’s call of Carling’s body with a growl as he snatched up his clothes. She fell back laughing on the bed, her eyes dancing with such wicked delight it nearly broke his head to walk away from her. “Later,” he snarled at her.